


Magic Hammer?  I hardly know her.

by MarvelsMenace



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mjolnir - Freeform, matt is a salty bastard, matt just wants to some fucking quiet, thor smells nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelsMenace/pseuds/MarvelsMenace
Summary: Matt is a good catholic boy, or atleast he tries to be.  He goes to church, attends confession when Claire doesnt put him on bed rest.  He stays far away from false idols and other religions, that is until one of them almost takes his head off durring a fight he isnt even involved in.  Typical.





	Magic Hammer?  I hardly know her.

**Author's Note:**

> Kicking around the idea of Matt meeting things not of this world and the varrying reactions. This was at the top of my list, but I'd love to hear suggestions/ideas

The smell of ozone makes his nose itch, and his ears buzz with the conflict near Stark tower, the sounds of fighting a higher frequency from the rolling of thunder off of the edge of the island.  Little blips pulse over the edge of building outlines, like the fireworks he remembers from his childhood.  Saved from looking at the apparent eyesore of what was once Stark tower, but now forced to deal with the constant off put of the Avenger’s battles, it was bittersweet. 

It took him more time that he had liked for his senses to adapt to the massive reactor living under the building, the low hum now a minor reassurance that a backup team of heavy hitters is there for when the city goes to shit.  As it usually does every six weeks or so.  He can hear the ring of vibranium, already substantial in the presence of the shield, it echoes well enough through the maze and alleys that he can hear it as if he was at the battle himself.  Stark’s electrical contraptions putt off just as much noise, their pitch a high wine, and he can feel a headache blooming in his temples from the frequency of his armor’s defenses.  He’s resting at the border of Hell’s Kitchen, done scaring off would be car jackers, now waiting should any errant forces come his way from Midtown.  So far though, the assembled team seems to be keeping things fairly contained. 

He’s still brooding when a screaming force is hurtled towards him from nowhere, causing him to throw himself flat on the roof to escape injury while forcing the edges of his helmet closer over his ears for some sort of buffer.  The noise is unholy as whatever it is passes over him, seeming to arch somewhere over the bay before circling back to deliver another dose of agony.  And then it’s gone, tearing through the air in the same direction it came.  He rolls over from his stomach, the gravel of the roof scraping at the armor on his spine before he rights himself on his hands and knees and manages to stand on shaky legs.  His ears is ringing and he wants to puke as the radar sense tries to right itself, like his braille reader restarting after a power outage.  The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen takes a breath, fighting back the rage and alarm waring in his head before the taste at the back of his throat registers and puts a stop to brain function aside from breathing.

Whatever the shit that thing was, it wasn’t from Earth.  It was metallic of some sort, that he could tell, trailing with the smells of polished leather and sweat.  He tilts his head, listening as the noise retreats to the center of the midtown battle, more distinct than the sound pollution Stark an Captain America are putting out. He looks heavenward with empty eyes, open and as unseeing as always behind his mask before clenching his jaw and starting a running jump towards the next rooftop. 

Apparently, a quiet night outside of petty crime was too much to ask for.  Foggy would be proud of this addition of variety if it didn’t fall into his after dark activities.

Daredevil slowed his approach as soon as he heard the sirens, cocking his head until he decided that they were coming from the south.  The station to the north must be occupied.  Still, it left him a free route as he crossed down 9th, occasionally he would hear someone shout about Daredevil, but he was focused on the path before him, the strange metal leaving a clear line before taking a sudden turn onto 34th that had him sliding across the roof to correct his direction while running.  Targeted weapon?  It left a definite line in his wake to track, but with no damage in its wake, civilian or property wise.  Apprehension prickled at his spine, by now he should be hearing the screaming, even after it’s loop he had been able to hear it until he had gotten himself under enough control to tune it to background noise. 

He crossed South again before leaping up taller buildings, scaling fire escapes and gutters until he was coming to a stop on the southern side of Penn Station, stalking along the carved stone edge.  The strange smell was there, stronger, and if he focused, he could piece together the avengers below him amidst the teaming bodies of aggressors and pedestrians. 

Maybe it was one of Stark’s new things? 

No, leather wasn’t his style, and whatever it is, it wasn’t something Stark could get his hands on.  Another sniff pinpointed the vibranium shield below, a clean and earthy smell bordered by an acrid titanium paint and leather, the later tinged with the sweat of its owner. He had met Captain America, then Steve Rogers on a few minor occasions with both of them out of their suits, the soldier coming to him for discreet legal help, that of which Matt, the totally normal but blind lawyer, had been happy to provide in trade for a signature for Foggy.  That had earned him a step off of the shit list for like a month, until he had gotten his ass handed to him and he was back in is usual level of being berated for causing trouble in dark alleys.  When he had asked Foggy if trouble in well-lit alleys was better, he got the silent treatment for a week.  It was worth it.

Electrical noise crackled across the radios below, a note about the roof of the station following in short order, and Matt flinched, stepping back out of sight, but too late.  He had been seen.  Though by what team member, he wasn’t sure, and Matt had only heard names off handedly in the rumor mill.  He needed answers though, so it was better to just work himself up to the inevitable interaction, get his answers and leave.  There was the lack of massive heart beat and roars below, so luckily the less than controlled Gama monster seemed to out of the picture for tonight’s brawl.  The think seemed to be protective of its team mates when it wasn’t tearing up streets, and that was something he didn’t want to test his luck with.  Better to stop counting his luck there. 

The noise of conflict died off in short order after that, the air below shifting to accommodate fluid curves as the Iron Man suit left the ground, making a neat spiral to the roof of the station, the crackle of energy ready in his palms.  The grinding plates of metal and the hum of his famed arc reactor signaled the arrival of Tony Stark.

Fucking Fantastic.

He had never really cared for Stark.  He read the news, remembered the Stark legacy before the invention of iron man.  The scandals, the employee strife, the wars fought with the same weaponry from both sides, the only difference being one side had acquired it legally.  Stark had cleaned up his act in the past few years, he would admit that.  But there wasn’t much else he had to say for the man.

The only saving grace for the ensuing altercation, verbal or otherwise, was that at this height he was saved from having to deal with the rest of the team, most grounded due to dealing with the police or other needs.  Or that pesky human inability to fly.  Stark wasn’t one to deal with the grunt work, and Murdock wasn’t at all surprised for him to abandon ground work to take an excuse to get out of there and investigate.

Matt was already taking steps backwards before there was the scrape of metal on stone and one Anthony E. Stark was standing before him, the air forced around the suit at this height giving him a fine outline of the armor.  The buzz of his suit was like a mosquito trapped in his ear, and the devil snorted as an automated female voice resonated from within the helmet, drifting out with air pressure hiss of what must be some part of the armor releasing.  The female voice was supplying his vitals, though what good that did Stark, he didn’t know.  It was hard to focus with the metallic whine surrounding stark, interrupted by perhaps the removal of a helmet.  Matt tuned into the currents moving around them on the roof again, focusing enough to see that it must have been a face shield of some sort.  _Of course_ , Stark wouldn’t want his money-making appearance damaged if he could help it.  His eyes rolled beneath the horned helmet.

“Well if it isn’t our resident Satanist.  Sorry to tell you, but you’re late to the party.”

His hackles rose, but Matt ignored the barb, moving to shift his weight into more of a defensive posture, keeping his hands open and flexing by his sides.  Stark was busy talking to his computer lady, and he wondered for a moment too long if he could make a quick exit and talk to Rogers before he was graced with Stark’s full attention.  Despite the armor, with enough focus, he could hear the man’s heart beat, slightly elevated, not surprising with the recent battle, but strong.  That was a surprise, wasn’t every day shrapnel got as close as the papers said and didn’t leave some sort of lasting effect.

“I go looking for trouble on my own, I don’t wait for it to organize and come at me with a party of fifty.”

Stark laughed with a bitter edge, likely looking him up and down in the following silence.

“That’s right, you just beat up petty criminals in an alley and wait for the police to take care of the cleanup, that is, when you can keep from not sending them to the hospital.”

The Devil roared in his head, and his mouth formed a cruel snarl.  So many things, past transgressions against the city, and the other parts of the world, even after the invention of Iron Man and its cleaner creations with the clearing of his conscience.

“Those men didn’t deserve to live.  How many deaths do you and your team hold on your shoulders?  Atleast two are assassins, one has unchecked rage-”

“Enough Devil, what’s this about?”

Matt chastised himself for the pang of delight he felt at sensing Stark’s pulse spike in irritation.  He let his rant go, remembering that there was apparently a hot button or two on the confirmed kills for the avengers.

“I Had to haul myself out of a party of my own after one of your toys nearly took out a water tower a few blocks from the docks in my borders.  You should have better control with alien technology Stark, or did you not learn your lesson the last time you got involved with otherworldly tech?”

He hadn’t had the suit with the invasion, hadn’t had the means to intervene aside from “accidentally” bumping into people to knock them out of the way of flying debris and stray shots. 

“You know, outside of the shit show you stirred up within the united nations…”

The air shifts as the other man Jerks sharply in his direction, his heart rate spiking even higher with aggression.  Good.  People with anger didn’t think their arguments through, it was easier to get straight answers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  These guys were bank robbers, and even I don’t get to take a look at the stuff SHIELDS’ clean up crew picks up.”

Bullshit.  He knew it, and so did Stark.  After hydra fell, Stark’s paws would have been all over the released data.  But that was for another time.  This still left the object in question unaccounted for.

“Bullshit.  Something with a trajectory like that can only come from you or the idiot of the hour who wants to take a shot at having control over Manhattan.”

Stark is grinding his teeth, probably wondering how lucky he would be in taking a physical shot at the Devil.  Matt wishes he would, almost wants to bait him.  Foggy and Claire would kill him.

“Ten years as a philanthropist will only get you so far Stark.  Doesn’t erase your reputation, or your company’s previous one.”

The billionaire made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat, making to scrub a hand through his hair before he recalled that his hands were encased with metal gauntlets.

“Fine.  I’ll bite, what the fuck did this thing look like, because if it wasn’t red and gold, I feel like you shouldn’t be blaming it on me.  Not to mention, you and your water tower are still standing, so I don’t know who stirred up your brimstone and ashes.”

Ah, more devil jokes.  How original.  Matt took a breath, recalling the shape he was able to take in as the screaming echoed in his skull. 

“In all honesty, it looked like a hammer, and flew like it wouldn’t be stopping, come hell or high water.”

This gave Stark a pause, and his heart skipped a moment before he tilted his head.

“Big hammer, leather handle?  Flies like it will take your head off if you don’t get out of its way?”

“Oddly specific.  But yes.”

Stark turned on his heel as much as the suit would allow and stalked over to the edge of the building. 

“Friday, send Thunderstruck up here.  I’ve got a friend for him to meet.”

He turned to glance over his shoulder, not willing to leave his back open to attack from behind.  Smart.  The Devil stalks closer, head tilting in an almost animalistic way, taking in the scene of bustling bodies below while he waits for the next arrival.

There was a rumble of thunder overhead, and Matt was thankful for the reprieve of Stark’s back as he flinched from the sudden crack of lightning that followed, the smell of ozone flaring even stronger as the static ran along his skin under the suit.  Fucking weather.

There was a familiar thwang of webbing from the east, but before he could react, the screaming metal was back though muted and nearly bearable, hurtling at the edge of the roof where Stark stood.  Matt took a few steps back, unsure of what exactly would be coming over that edge.  Just as fast as it began, it was gone, in its company, a massive…Humanoid shape?

He could tell immediately that he wasn’t human, male yes, from the smell of testosterone mingled with sweat, but everything else was different.  His heartbeat was strong, and working at a slower, but harder beat than he had encountered before.  Whoever he was had words with Stark before massive feet crunched their way over the gravel to what was just shy of Matt’s personal space. 

He extended a hand, and the Devil in his mind told him to slap it away.  Listening to the Devil wouldn’t get him answers.  He made what must have been some sort of grimace as he shook the other’s hand, a massive thing that dwarfed his own, with callous skin and a warm palm.  There was a noise of honest amusement from the other party before he spoke, voice warm and deep from what had to have been a barrel of a chest.

“Greetings my new mortal friend!  I am Thor of Asgard, god of thunder.”

Boy if that didn’t send his Catholic instincts running, only meeting Jesus Christ and the honest to God Devil would.  He had heard of Thor of course, who hadn’t with the cluster fuck that was New York City and all its super heroes.  But to meet an honest to God, well god.  It rattled him.  His voice was gravelly when he spoke.

“Daredevil, I run patrol around Hell’s Kitchen.  You’re the only person I’ve met that’s claimed godhood, so you’ll humor me in my skepticism.”

Thor laughed again, booming and genuine.

“A fitting name!  I have seen many criminals in passing speak in your name with fear.  I respect your mortal beliefs, it is not something light to meet the subject of fables and ancient religions.”

That sent a queasy feeling twisting in his gut, knowing that at least one of the avengers had heard about the devil’s treatment from a victim itself, but that was something for another time.  He took a deep breath, nothing out of the norm, as if trying for patience.  Beneath the male scent he already picked up, there was an oldness to him, like finding one of the historical bibles in the church, underlined with what couldn’t be mistaken for something other than goddamn apples in sunshine.  Old as balls and sexy apples.  _What the fuck_.

“Very polite Thor, he’s interested in the hammer, and not the one in your pants.”

Stark returned to his conversation with what sounded like the team below, no doubt eavesdropping.  Matt could still intermittently hear the ring of vibranium as Captain America shifted his shield.  Thor raised the hammer in question, turning it this way and that for Matt to admire, a fair gesture if he could really see the thing.  The weapon was scaled to the man wielding it, with the stone of it having to be close to the size of Matt’s head.

“Truly a wonderful weapon.  It was forged of a rare metal in the heart of a dying star, then enchanted by my father.  Only the worthy may lift it, and with that they may wield its power and receive its gifts.”

The god, good God was he really buying into that?  Tossed it lightly before catching it with his palm, weight side down.  It made a more relaxed noise, perhaps the sound of the enchantment moving within the object, while the wind whispered over the braided leather handle.  In the company of its owner, the thing seemed to sing, not unlike a drawn-out chime from a small bell, content as if it were one half of a whole piece.  Thor flipped it again, and Matt braced himself.  Without a beat the weapon was flung, soaring of its own accord out over the city, the scream the same as the last two times he’d witnessed it.  Yet as soon as the thing was back in its owner’s hand, it was silent.  Like some placated beast, curling up in the lap of its master.  Strange. 

“Would you like to test your worthiness friend Daredevil?  Few have been able to move it an inch.”

Matt tilted his head, as fantastic as the thing may be, it wouldn’t give him his sight back, it wouldn’t return him to his father.  It would just add more to the shit show that was his life.  As if he would be enough of an idiot to take that test in front of God.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.   We get enough storms at it is.  I’d say I’ll see you around, but I would really rather not.”

With nothing else to say, he dove off the edge of the station, catching flag pole after flag pole until he could leap to a fire escape and scale it to ground level in a secluded alley.  He was half way back to his usual roof when his tail started, two blacks later and he could smell the gunpowder and Kevlar of Wade following him.  No use, he’d cut him off eventually.  Matt hauled himself up a gutter and onto one of the Kitchen’s roofs, putting his back to the city as he listened to what sounded like a God forsaken one-man band thunder his way up the structure. 

Wade put his hands on his knees, panting as he waved a hand at Daredevil to give him a moment to breathe.  He coughed wetly a few times before spitting, a soft plink of metal resonating from the concrete roof as the bullet from his chest cavity made contact and rolled to a stop at Matt’s booted foot.

“Charming as ever Wade.”

“Looking horny as ever, you busy later?”

The salaciousness in his tone made forever forget having the conversation with the kid about dating, and subsequently how sides didn’t matter to him.

“I do not have the patience for this right now.”

There’s a deep-seated ache in the back of his head from the screaming of foreign metal and electricity, he feels off, like something is silently unraveling his thoughts and separating the muscles from bone and tendons.  He’s going to have a migraine tomorrow, which means he’ll spend half his day on the couch, intermittently puking until his senses sort themselves.

“Come on, that’s what you say back alley criminals, not your best buddy ole pal Wade Wilson.”

Matt ignores this with an irritated noise.  The silence of course, doesn’t last.

“Saw you got to meet the big bastard with the hammer.  He’s a delight let me tell you, and literal thunder thighs too.  I wouldn’t mind doing for a ride if you know what I mean.”

Wade makes an appreciative noise, and Matt is drawn back to the scent of golden apples and old books.  Bastard.

“I’d rather not, but the way you smell makes it clear enough.  I’ve already had to deal with Stark today, you know my capacity for conversation is low even before talking to people like him.”

There’s a grunt of acknowledgement from the Merc.

“Yeah, yeah.  Just wanted to make sure the dick didn’t blow out your ears.  We’d be stuck with the ugly leading the blind _and_ deaf.”

Wade’s cackle of laughter echoes off of the brick walls, followed by a solid _CRACK_ as a gloved hand strikes his armor, and Matt shakes his head at the fact that he has to actively fight a smile, much less a chuckle that wants to bubble from the back of his throat.  Too many things on his mind right now.

“It’s a wonder you have as much trouble with words as you do, you should talk to someone, maybe they can install a real filter.  Peter can open up your head every couple of months and replace it like an A/C unit, blow out all the dust.”

Wade tossed his head back to laugh, moving to slap Matt on the ass before he caught his hand, black and red gloved hands clawing at each other.  This developed into a scuffle, which devolved into them rolling around on the roof until something hit them hard and fast, sending three bodies sprawling.  This turned into a more aggressive brawl while Peter only watched, sighing like a worn-out soccer mom as he tried to call them off of each other. 

They continued on before the ringing of a phone interrupted them.  Deadpool answered with little ceremony above Daredevil, yanking his mask above his mouth while perched comfortably with his thighs locked around his horned and helmeted head, he spoke with irritation and frequent swear words until he disentangled himself from Matt and picked up his bag, protruding swords and all.  The thing sounded like Wade had stuffed an industrial kitchen into it. 

“Duty calls, time to go see a man about some dynamite and an ice cream truck.  See you around Red.  Make good choices Spidey!  Don’t end up like the grumpy old bastard still on the ground.”

Matt gave him the finger, neutral from his position laid out and grumbling on the roof. 

“I’d say don’t die, but we all know it’s a moot point by now.”

Wade chucked himself off the roof with little ceremony, crashing through the closed roof of a recycling dumpster.  There was some clatter below as he disentangled himself from boxes and aluminum cans until he ambled off with a whistle to the North, off to make some poor bastard’s night a living hell.  At least it wasn’t his for once. 

“You okay Mr. Devil?”

“What have I said about you calling me that?”

He made no motion to move.  The heat soaked up from the days sun was bleeding in through his suit, warm on his spine.

“I don’t remember, Wade told me to forget about it.”

“Why am I not surprised?  I’m fine, just coming with the terms that my life is still becoming increasingly more complicated on a biweekly basis.”

The Spider Man suit scraped against stone as Peter moved closer to find a place beside him.  The red figure rolled over onto his front, making somewhere between a groan and a whine into the stone beneath his face as Peter settled himself.

“I can listen if you want to talk about it.”

Matt took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, this was a near existential crisis, but somehow also not.  He needed to make a make a ranking system of mental crisis.  A two would be hitting someone a few too many times, with the fix being confession and church activities. 

Coming into contact with a theoretical god, but not the GOD, would probably be closer to the top.  Maybe a seven with the fix being unknown.  Still though, he had heard the kid talk about Thor, so perhaps it wouldn’t be terrible to have an outsider’s perspective without bringing sexual attraction to the forefront like Wade had.

“I’m a practicing catholic, I’m shit at it really, but I put in an effort as much as life will allow.  I like to avoid things that will make this situation more difficult than the fact that I’m a catholic vigilante.”

The teen made a small noise beside him, affirming that, yes, real life and vigilante balance was hard.

“And then you met Thor?”

The older man turned his head to sneer in the general direction of the other.

“You’re a nosy little fucker aren’t you?  I thought I sensed you screwing around while I was talking to Stark.”

“Yeah, that’s what Aunt May says, but with less words.  Mister Stark wanted to see the new suit improvements if I was out tonight, but I didn’t want to interrupt.  I about faced as soon as I saw you.”

His hands itched to run through his hair and pull at it, a grounding habit he had picked up in law school, impeded by his helmet and his stupid as fuck extracurricular activities.  Though if he kept at it, he wouldn’t have any hair left.

“Fuck.”

“What about Henothiesm?”

“What?”

“Like one god for worship, but you know that there are others out there.”

“That sounds like it would not be allowed.  The acknowledgement of other gods is generally frowned upon.”

“May calls herself a Godless heathen.  It sounds easier the more you keep talking.”

Peter made a noise in the back of his throat like Matt was being difficult on purpose.  Not entirely out of the question, but actually not intentional at this point.  Daredevil returned to voicing his frustrations to the roof, talking into sparse gravel and concrete.  Peter could hear him well enough.

“Aliens.”

Matt actually lifted his head to face Peter, blind eyes actually searching in the right direction, wondering where the hell this was going.

“What?”

Jesus, he sounded like a broken record even to himself.  Why in the hell was he getting existential advice from a teenager?

“Well Thor’s from space.  So, he’s an alien, not off this worl-“

“Yes, I know about aliens thank you Doctor Parker.”

“Rude.”

“How do you know he’s actually from space?”

“I know the lady who was there when he first came to Earth a few years back.  She’s really nice!  She has a small team that works with portals and stuff to monitor what’s coming to earth.  They were trying to figure out how to get back to Asgard but I think that’s off the list for some reason.”

It made sense though, the man, he couldn’t decide if he liked that term or not, clearly wasn’t from this Earth.  It would pacify him until he could make it to church and talk to one of the fathers about this dilemma.  Surely, they see the news, they know about Thor, so there’s no deniability or way to say that he just didn’t exist.  He was interrupted from the self-briefing with the need to slap a hand away for a second time that night, Peter’s hand just shy of poking one of the horns on his helmet.

“I’m too old for this shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://a-marvel-fueled-dumpster-fire.tumblr.com)


End file.
